


The Lions of Wall Street

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, their paths always intersect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lions of Wall Street

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt: Jaime and Cersei in modern times, neither knows who the other really was, then something happens and BAM, they remember who they were.

She’s been watching him closely. 

He is handsome, certainly, and charming almost to a fault. He had caught the eye of almost every intern in the office, and his crooked smiles more than made up for his lack of ambition. If Cersei had learned nothing in the year she has spent on Wall St., digging her claws into the life she knows is hers by right, it was that effortless confidence more than makes up for lack of skill. 

She, certainly, would never accuse herself of lacking skill. She had made it through sheer force of will, crushing others under her spiked heels, managing finance as if it was her birthright, smiling with crimson lips whenever management praised her in front of others. She knows she should hate a man like him, who breezed his way through Ivy League and internships on the strength of his name, but she can’t. She knows his type, comes from the same background, but there’s something that separates him from the boys she had grown up with. She can’t quite place it though, making him far more interesting than he otherwise would be. 

And she knows he’s been watching her. He’s blatant about it, doesn’t try and hide it. Flirting across rooms. They’ve hardly spoken to each other but she’s caught his eyes more often than she can count, enough to make the other jealous. She relishes that feeling, watches the other interns carefully apply their makeup before he enters the room, then stare at her with imperfect lips when he breezes past. 

“It’s only a matter of time,” one of the other girls mutters dejectedly as she walks past, and for once Cersei thinks they might actually be perceptive. 

\---

It starts slow. He brushes past her in the halls, fetches her coffee. She flirts with other men, finds reasons to drop things off at his supervisor’s office. They barely speak but there’s an energy in the air, a sense of understanding that makes most communication unnecessary. 

One afternoon, as he passes her in the hall, he reaches out and catches her wrist. His touch goes straight to her core and she actually gasps in surprise, a reaction she wasn’t sure she was capable of. He holds her for a second, and the gesture feels so intimate that she’s glad there is no one around to see. 

Jaime breaks it almost as quickly as he started it, leaving her a bit dazed. She’s not sure what actually happened, but she can’t help herself. She follows him. 

He leads her to a near empty wing—the remains of one too many lay-offs, the offices of those who had their positions before corporate realized how many success-hungry interns were willing to work for less—and enters an abandoned room. She glances behind—she knows it would be no good for stories to build, hopes to keep this only at the level of envious rumors—and follows. 

Jaime doesn’t speak, and for that she’s glad. She’s been with far too many talkative men, and there’s a level of confidence in his silence that she loves. But what he doesn’t say in words he makes up for in actions, taking her roughly the second the door is closed. His hands grip her waist, his teeth claim nearly every inch of skin they can and she gives back, clawing at him with her red nails, dragging him to the desk by his loose tie. 

He lifts her up with one sure move—he’s strong, even moreso than his broad back would have her believe—and pushes her charcoal pencil skin up past her hips. She’s wearing black stockings and garters, a romantic remnant of the past that she can’t give up. Cersei is glad that her heels stayed on, for they prove useful for digging against his back, pushing him into her. 

“I want to fuck you,” he hisses in her ear. He didn’t have to put it in words, but she’s glad he did. There’s a roughness to it that she loves, and she wonders how he knows she would respond well to it. Is he simply that good at reading people? 

She pulls him closer by his tie, grinds against his hardening cock. “Then do it.”

He’s big; she wouldn’t have expected anything less. He fills her completely, pushing against her with an intensity unlike anything she’s experienced before. She appreciates it, returns it in full, grips his crisp white shirt, feels his heartbeat under her hands...

It hits her like a brick. 

She presses her hand against his heart, feels it beat in time with her own pulse. Jaime seems to feel it too, for he pulls back just enough to met her eyes. Green eyes, the same as her’s, the same as they always have been.

Neither of them speak—she’s really not quite sure what there is to say about this. _You have my heartbeat. I’ve felt this before_. It’s a silly idea, one that she knows she should be above, but one that she knows in her gut is true. _You’re me._

A wave of confusion sweeps over her. Memories of pleasure, of betrayal, of wholeness. She continues to hold his gaze, lets the realization wash over her face, knows he shares the same. 

Still holding her eyes he continues to rock his hips forward. It’s sweeter than anything she had ever felt before.


End file.
